Across New York Bay
by We-All-Have-Scars
Summary: Kurt and Blaine meet in a group therapy session, each dealing with their own medical struggles. Likewise to the Fault in Our Stars, the two journey together through their physical struggles as well as the pain, and triumphant, of first love.


It was just after dusk, a gentle breeze coursing through the silent night as Kurt rode his bicycle into the parking lot, eyes pointedly locked ahead. He knew that if he so much as pondered the thought of not going, he'd be turning around and heading back down the bustling city streets before he realized it.

He liked to pretend that he couldn't feel the vice-like pain gripping his chest, vehemently denying it as asthma if anyone were to ask. His body ached with a fatigue that only cancer could effectively produce, draining him of any remote amount of energy he'd woken up with this afternoon.

Staring up at the emblazoned hospital sigh, he felt a mixture of anger and spite that no one truly understood. Through doctor's orders he was forced to attend this "therapeutic" group therapy session every Thursday evening for "any hospital patients wishing to seek further support in dealing with their medical needs". Reworded, this was nothing more than a pity party for those who knew that shit had hit the fan.

Still, something propelled Kurt forward, whether it was loneliness or the fact his dad would kick his ass for skipping, he did not know. All he knew was that before he could mentally prepare himself, the double doors flung open and an overly enthusiastic man greeted him, a cheery smile spread across his face.

"Welcome!" he shouted, eagerly grabbing Kurt's hand and swinging it vigorously. Startled, he bit back a yelp, already questioning why he hadn't escaped when he had the chance. "My name's Eric! You're Kurt, I presume? I thought I recognized you from the clinic! Well then, just find a seat and relax, we'll be starting momentarily!"

"Thank you," Kurt murmured, cheeks burning as he timidly eased to the back corner, feeling the eyes of his fellow patients locked on him. He leaned his head back against the back window, the cool air easing his tension and luring him into a drowsy state...then disrupted by a pointed cough.

"What?" he hissed, in annoyance. A low chuckle reached his ears, and his eyes widened open and he nearly toppled over his chair.

A young man stood in front of him, laughing quietly to himself. Toned and tan, with curly dark hair, his eyes scrunched up at the corners from laughter. "Excuse me," he pardoned, a warm smile spreading haphazardly. "I was wondering if this seat was taken?" he continued, gesturing to the lone one to Kurt's left.

"Oh, ah, erm, n-n-no, it isn't," Kurt squeaked, his face shaded crimson as his voice cracked. But the stranger only smiled, his eyes gleaming as he brushed past Kurt.

Settling down and crossing his legs, he breathed a sigh of relief before turning to his left. "My name's Blaine, by the way," he said, extending a hand forward.

"Kurt" he replied, his palm being enveloped in a sudden warmth, firm and strong. And my god, had he missed that. That feeling of safety and security, that feeling of protection that years of treatment and relapses had deprived him of..

"Kurt? That's a unique name," Blaine said, a quizzical look on his face. Then, once more smiling, he laughed and said "I like it."

Kurt blushed, feeling flustered and confused and suspicious. 'What game was this guy playing?' he thought to himself. He'd dealt with enough assholes in school, playing tricks on his mind similar to what was being said now. But something about this guy...it was genuine. Crazy enough, some might even consider it flirting.

Snapped out of his reverie, Blaine was staring blankly at Kurt, a questioning look on his face. "Well, would you?" he asked, a hopeful note now present in his voice.

"Would I...god, erm, I'm so sorry," Kurt said, embarrassed. "I was kinda daydreaming back there.."

Blaine sighed in relief, laughing nervously. "You're quite a character, Kurt," he said, grinning ear to ear. Then it faltered, and in a serious voice he asked, "Can I buy you dinner? I really want to get to know you better," he said, his eyes sparkling intensely.

And this was where Kurt's doubt came into play, trying to decipher Blaine's angle in this whole mess. "Why?" Kurt asked, and dammit, he could feel his face burning more and angry tears beginning to form. "Is it so you can mock-this!" he said, gesturing to himself, his outfit, his voice, his feminist manners. "Because if so, I assure you've I've been reminded plenty. Would it be better if a strapped a neon gay sign on my forehead?!"

Horrified, as if he were slapped across the face, Blaine began trying to calm down Kurt before Eric caught wind of what was going on. "No no no, Kurt! It's not because of that at all! Believe me, please!" Blaine blew out, frustrated at himself and the situation. Turning toward Kurt entirely, eyes locked on him, he whispered, "It's because I am like you. I just...I'm not as proud of myself as you are. Please, believe me when I say I truly want to get to know you."

Blaine stood, wiping his hands on his pants and then wringing them together. "I'm so sorry, Kurt," he said ashamedly, beginning to walk away.

And something grabbed hold of Kurt that moment, the realization that this person was more than a stranger, more than a homophobic asshole. Something drew him to Kurt, his sincerity. And before he knew what he was doing, he strode up to Blaine, tapping his shoulder. Blaine turned around, eyes widening, but before he could say anything, Kurt simply stated, "You're paying," and turned out of the room ahead of him.


End file.
